


Monsters Inside Us

by spaceghost



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Established Relationship, Other, komaeda has major problems, the boy needs therapy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-27
Updated: 2016-09-27
Packaged: 2018-08-18 05:14:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8150300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceghost/pseuds/spaceghost
Summary: WARNING: SUICIDE ATTEMPT"Maybe there is hope for even a talentless hack such as himself! Maybe his mega-talented peers have rubbed off on him! He pause, thinks, guffaws at this thought, and vaguely wonders if untalented people go to the same heaven as talented people.He then wonders if there is a heaven at all."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Komaeda has always been my emotional outlet character. Thus, whatever I've gone through, he's gone through.
> 
> Although this was written during a very dark period in my life, I am thankfully now much better. The reason I keep this story alive, however, is to remind myself of the storms I've weathered.

Komaeda peers down at his torso, eyes drinking in the red liquid now quickly spreading around his seated figure. A giant cut traces from right shoulder blade to left hip. The cut looks strangely like a smile to him, cheering him on, approving and accepting him. Even in his most despair-ridden moments, it can provide hope to him. How wonderful! He giggles softly as he watches the bathroom tile spin around him. He calls out, his yells sounding like a voice hidden under the thick blanket of water. He presses a palm to his cut and decides, finally that his wound does resemble a smile! Kind of like a second smile, for when he's feeling sad. Second smile? What a great way to describe it, he thinks, and grins approvingly. What a great joke! Maybe there is hope for even a talentless hack such as himself! Maybe his mega-talented peers have rubbed off on him! He pause, thinks, guffaws at this thought, and vaguely wonders if untalented people go to the same heaven as talented people.

He then wonders if there is a heaven at all.

But back to his second smile. Ah, yes, he remembers how it all happened now. Since the first day of school on the mysterious island, he had always recognized that desperate circumstances called for desperate measures. He had looked around for the perfect...safe item...just in case, of course! He might need to use force to create hope. That sometimes has to happen, of course. Anything for his talented peers! He had searched the entire island campus, until he ventured into the Super Highschool Level Chef's kitchen and his eyes rested upon a gleaming butcher's knife. Although he burned with a twinge of guilt as he slipped the knife away, he knew all would work out to create hope in the end. Smiling with pride, he had hid this perfect weapon under his pillow, tucking it away in his private space. 

Sitting hunched over on his bed, Komaeda turns the cool knife over in his palms. He had dug it out from under his pillow and was now examining it closely, strangely enticed by the danger it forebodes. Although he initially brought the weapon to create hope for his peers, he began to feel very strangely about the weapon. It seemed...very decisive to him...it seemed...like it would help people make difficult decisions.

Hmm.

He sets it down on his nightstand with a clink. Komaeda pulls himself up and clunks over to the bathroom connected to his dorm room. Slowly, he palms the wood of the white door and walked in. He pauses as he passed the mirror and peers at his own reflection. Dark bags hang around his wide blood-shot eyes like two dark curtains. A yellow bruise blooms above his left cheekbone. 

He hasn't seen his reflection in days. Almost as if amused by his appearance, he curiously opens his mouth and gazed at the wide crooked teeth crowding his mouth. He remembers how his elementary schoolmates used to pick on him for his bad teeth. He also remembers how his first schoolgirl crush, a tiny girl with ratty hair and a dirty face, said he had a friendly smile because his teeth were big and welcoming.

He never forgets and tries to use that as a motivator to keep smiling and bringing hope! Komaeda closes his mouth and forces his tired lips up into a bright and welcoming smile! He has to keep up appearances, right? Even when his team's weakest member has fallen into despair, it doesn't mean the others should too, right?

Komaeda chuckles secretly to himself. How could he, the team's most joyful member, become the most despairing member? He almost felt like laughing out loud at the thought. If only everyone could see him now! If only everyone could see the despair that was eroding his heart as they chattered aimlessly about fun and friendship.

Being a hero was so hard!

Komaeda lifts up the hem of his shirt and wrenches it over his mane. He peers again in the mirror, eyes tracing the numerous scars of his past punishments and accidents. His eyes rest on a small zigzag scar nearly under his collarbone. 

Komaeda is pressing his fingers deep into the scar, pushing hard enough to make the spot turn white. He pulls his fingers back, watches the skin turn red, and pushes his fingers back deeper. His eyes swim all over his skinny torso, etching each small scar into his brain. Each scar, each tiny river of white raised skin tells a unique story. He remembers the dark periods that punctuated his adolescent life, after the bullying, the loss of his parents, the development of his crippling self-doubt. What was the point of his life if he was never born talented anyway? He never felt like he was worth anything to begin with. Why did his parents try to fool him? They had been lying to him, everyone had been lying to him! Lies. Lies. Lies!  
He was alone. Alone and alone in his disgusting unending despair.  
Dark thoughts would creep into his mind when he would be lying under the cover of his bed, the only place he could take refuge from his mind. But suddenly, thoughts of taking a knife to himself would flash into his mind like headlights on a dark road. Taking a knife to his wrist, his hand, his neck, his anything. Something to relieve himself. Yes, something to bring his pain to fruition, something to wake him from his long slumber in the dark.  
But he had always tried to believe in the hope. He believed in it, or at least he thought he believed in it. Ever since he had discovered the talented souls at Hope's Peak Academy, he had been filled with boundless hope and joy for their light. But that's when he thinks of them, that's when he focuses solely on their light. But sometimes, when Komaeda looks inward, all he sees is a never-ending tunnel of darkness. And the thoughts of despair are locked tightly in the puzzle box of his mind. And so he is trapped. 

And he needs to be free. 

Komaeda awakens again, and once again he is real and standing in front of the mirror, gazing at his lithe figure, a corpse-like torso littered with scars. And he remembers what he has to do, what he has wanted to do for so long. He peers up at the ceiling and sucks in a deep breath. He steps out of the room and finds his way back to his nightstand. He sits down on his bed and folds his arms over his knees. Peering at the nightstand, he notices the screen of his cell phone blinking green. A new message. Raising his brows, he curiously reaches over and picks up the device. The green text on the screen reads "Hinata-kun".

Suddenly, Komaeda's brows relax and his shoulders slope down and his lips curl up in a smile, a real smile. And suddenly, the warmth of this familiar brunette boy is almost tangible. He can almost feel the other's warm breath on wash over his cheek from when Hinata passed out against Komaeda's shoulder. Komaeda had remembered each soft breath the other boy had emitted, counted each rise and fall of his chest. The boy had slept peacefully, his usually hard and expressioned face soft. The two had spent the entire night sitting against Hinata's headboard, speaking about everything from fast food to life after the island. In his mind, Komaeda can still see every gentle look the other would give him. Hinata would not give him a look of disgust or even confusion, but one of genuine interest. Komaeda can still see every slight twitch of the other boy's lips, every crinkle of his eye. When he laughed, it wasn't forced, but real, one where he opened his mouth wide, teeth, tongue, and lips involved in bellowing out his boyish laugh. 

If there was one thing Komaeda loved about Hinata, it was his capacity for hope. Even in the darkest times, even during the most unsolvable murder trials, the ones that left Hinata flabbergasted and without answers, he always had the drive to move on. It was incredible! Even though they were both falling in their own ways, both tumbling headlong down a dark hole, Hinata continued to lift Komaeda up. And Komaeda needs that. He desperately needs that. While hope is good and well in the abstract, it can't do much when there is no fervor. And Hinata awakened that hopeful fervor in Komaeda.

Komaeda loved that about him.

Hinata made him feel special, too. Like every moment between them was private, intimate, and shared. He had a secret with Hinata, one that no one else had. He could lean his head onto Hinata's shoulder whenever he wanted, nuzzling his cheek against Hinata's always warm neck. He could trace his fingers over the creases in Hinata's rough palms for hours, gently taking time to run his finger over each and every line. Whenever Komaeda did these things, Hinata would always smile his warm full smile down at the other boy. And Komaeda would echo his smile back.

Komaeda was special!

He was different.

No one else had that with Hinata, right?

And that had to count for something.  
Komaeda smiles brightly as he thought of all these things, his knees jostling with excitement. He turns the phone over in his palms, running his fingers over the cold hard plastic.

His knees freeze, his kneecaps knocking together.

The phone is burning ice against his warm palm as it flips open.

His fingers tap Hinata's message on the glowing blue screen. He punches a couple of keys and hits send.

Komaeda's head is a bomb balancing on a toothpick. He wishes it would clink to the ground and burst with fire, devouring him instantly in a warm embrace.

He wishes the Super Highschool Level students would also be incinerated by the blast. He believes their flesh would melt like puddy and their bones would crack like sticks.

Something tells him their eyeballs would pop out of their heads and roll to the floor. 

Komaeda unfolds himself and stands up, peering toward the bathroom door. He reaches down, curls his palm around the knife handle and lifts it up. He peers down at the unmoving stiff steel blade.

The blade quivers in his palm and peers up at him expectantly.

The blade gently traces a line from right shoulder to left hip. Komaeda smiles, softly, and almost sadly, and steps into the bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him.

■

The message says "Help me". 


End file.
